Home is… where?

An absence of purpose.

If there are readers out there that have wondered at my absence these past few months, I was collecting new thoughts from new changes and new challenges.

It’s amazing how the concept of ‘home’ can surface in more than just as your dwelling of residence. Even then, the place you live is not necessarily ‘homely’. You don’t always feel at ease, safe and secure in your abode, or with your housemates. There are different places and people I feel at home with, even streets, parks and rivers. One thing I have struggled to find since the passing of my beloved mum is the place I reside to have that feeling of ‘home’. A sense of feeling safe, at ease, settled. Yes, this was a spiritual, emotional and mental residence I have been continuously working on within myself, but also of a literal sense. I required a residence that I felt ‘at home’ in. Retrospectively I realise that so much of this came down to my inner quest, I nevertheless spent a decade uneasy. I tried to dress up my surroundings but to no avail. I pretended to cook for myself and keep a domestic life, but I could see no point in doing so. I was constantly ready for the next event to necessitate another move to spring up from nowhere.

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Autumn in Coburg, Vic

I eventually found it, a little piece of paradise that was my own home, and moving from it after nearly three years was my own choice. I found it here, too, in the wonderful suburb of Coburg. I got to spend three months in an old, dingy house, constantly cold but feeling safe and at peace. I found a routine and also found joy in every moment I walked out into my neighbourhood. My soul has claimed Coburg, and the northern suburbs of Melbourne as a whole, as its spiritual home. It’s funny how, after spending a seemingly infinite amount of years altering and adapting yourself, the moment you feel you can finally take a leap forward and let out that long-held breath is the moment when the world decides to test your assurances. Yet, that doesn’t need to be a bad thing, nor does it need to send you reeling backwards. In fact, sometimes it is just that final bump in the road that is needed to jolt you into place.

The passing of my housemate in Coburg was sudden although, in retrospect, not really surprising. A friend I made earlier this year at ‘school’, we had a friendly and warm dynamic in the old stone house. After being notified of her death, I immediately reverted to fight or flight, and stayed that way for weeks, instantly in crisis over where to go and what to do. The decades of PTSD training my brain had undergone had made it a master of meltdown, yet I still somehow found myself a roof over my head.

And what a roof…

After my freefall of fear, I landed safely on my feet in shoes of cushions… no shockwaves or hard landing. My new home is two bedrooms, quite spacious, and has a cute little courtyard with luscious garden. Most importantly my housemate instantly felt like home. Two weeks felt like two months, two months like two decades. A kindred spirit, we spent my first night in the house laughing until it hurt. She is one more family member I never expected, particularly in such a short amount of time.

She has provided such solid friendship, love, support and laughter in such a short amount of time, and it is hard to believe I haven’t known her forever. In my anxieties about assignments, she has encouraged me without pressure. In my moments of self-doubt, she has pointed out my awesome without being condescending. My chemical imbalances and overall temperament have been more balanced in the four months I’ve lived here, and the calm has been almost surreal.

I may still be terrified of the path I have chosen for myself and may often feel like I’m too old to be single and childless, but I feel like I’m truly home for the first time in years. Whatever happens from here I can handle it from a safe and secure space.

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The Dark Moon

In the shadow of the grief of others, I know not how to speak.

Yes, I’ve been in those same holds before, medieval stocks,

But I recall the pains of an event long ago.

No matter how dark the night, or indeed the day,

My final thought upon enactment is always of my loves.

I could never allow them to feel that undying ache again.

 

So how does one come to that final point of relief?

To know that feeling of leaning forward and looking deep into the abyss,

to have actually jumped into it I…

well, I cannot even fathom the concept of a shade that black.

 

Has she never experienced that unyielding pain from those who left only questions?

I can only presume not, as for someone so genuinely thoughtful to have left those she cares for so undone…

The family left to mourn will never be the same.

 

If peace was what she was searching for in the dark,

then I hope that is what she found,

on her solo travels late on a cold winter night.

Blindsided

When all is said and done, where do I stand without you? Am I one entity myself? Or am I still intertwined with you somehow?

Where do the shadows take you? Where does the ash blow? If not for the wind and the passing of seasons would you still be here now?

Do these colours still reach you? Do they swirl and sway around you? Does the sky still burn brightly in your eyes or is all just dull and grey?

Can you hear the music playing? Can you hear me sing and dance? Does the melody call you and the tempo still pulse in your bones?

Do my whispers reach you? Do you hear me when I cry? Can you see that I need you to hold my hand and to make me smile?

Why can’t I rewrite history? Why can’t I challenge fate? Can I just go back and warn us all, make better use of time?

Still, here I sit without you. I’d stand but I’m too tired. I don’t think I’ll ever get it, I hope I never lose what’s left of you

But I’ll continue on, I promise. I’ll keep walking, step by step. I just wish I believed in an afterlife, so I didn’t feel it was all for nothing.

To infinity…

I have a fear of heights, well not so much the heights but the falling from them. I guess you get the best views from on high, and I love to walk up Mt Kos here in Australia, but the ride in the chairlift from Thredbo (if you go that way, I actually prefer the walk from Charlotte’s Pass) is another wonky, wobbly, story altogether. I have been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone as I get older, and am keen to embrace the inner child in me and try out some roller coasters as an adult. This goes for food too, yet my tolerance for spicy, hot and peppery is still a looong way off being beyond the mild-with-a-massive-tub-of-yoghurt stage. Then there are social factors, where I am trying to push much further beyond my comfort zone than anything else, and so far doing alright this year.

Continue reading “To infinity…”

City vs Country

It strikes me as odd that a girl from the country can be so comfortable in the city. I mean, anyone who thinks Canberra as a ‘city’ is deluded, because it’s really just a large country town. But that’s not what I mean about being a country girl.

I was born in a small town on the Murray River, where the river red gums stand tall and proud and the Murray cod are only good for fertiliser or yabby bait. Continue reading “City vs Country”

Breathing music – part I

I have a generic “about me” entry on my social media accounts, not that I have many accounts. It basically states how my life is a musical and how I will not only have a song in my head all the time but if there’s static then I inevitably create one. You should hear my ‘washing dishes’ song; classic. But knowing this, I’m sure it won’t shock you to find I have created a playlist to suit most any and every mood and emotion. Yet, I find music can so easily change my state of emotive response, even if for a moment, so does that make my playlists redundant?

Music has always been a key part of my life. Continue reading “Breathing music – part I”

You can’t pick ’em

What’s that old saying; ‘You can’t pick your family’?

I guess, technically, that’s true. Although there are one or two people that I am happy to deselect from my family, along with some very special friends who I have chosen to be a part of it. And you know what, there are so many I have been born with that I would choose all over again if I had the choice. Continue reading “You can’t pick ’em”